


Though It Be Winter, Still Our Heart Beats

by Dryad



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, he decided to see her in person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though It Be Winter, Still Our Heart Beats

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the[ 2013 XF is Love](http://xf-is-love.livejournal.com/).

~*~

In the end, he decided to see her in person. 

A gust of cold and damp air rocked the car when he pulled up in front of the house, a one and a half storey new build in cream and pine green. He had to hold on tight to the door handle to prevent it from closing on his legs as he got out of the car. The night was, typically for late November, dark and stormy, the wind whipping through the streets and slapping dead leaves against his trousers as he strode up the concrete walk. He huddled more deeply into his coat and wished he'd had the foresight to wear Father's old wool cardigan beneath it. The outside light flicked on just as he lifted the brass knocker - she must have been expecting company

"Teena," he said without preamble when she opened the front door. She was dressed for an outing, though not with a man he didn't know. A dress suitable for Bridge or Canasta, a pale green affair printed with large yellow lilies and tiny purple violets. He'd seen her letting the stitches out of it years ago after Fox's birth. On the lapel was the pin he had given her a week later; an owl in brushed gold, accented with diamond eyes. So, she was still fond of him. Not that he cared what she did with her time.

"Bill," she said. She blinked at him once, twice, then stepped back to let him inside.

He entered the hallway (buff walls, an oil painting of a still life with vase, oil radiator, coat hook with keys, umbrella, two scarves, a cream hat), closed the door behind. He went no further, for he had no interest in the confines of her home or the contents therein. "Fox has decided to join the Bureau of Investigation."

At one time she would have gone into histrionics.

Once, she would have screamed, would have thrown cut crystal glasses and delicate porcelain cups.

She was a different woman now. Only the faint pinking of her cheeks and the subtle flare of her nostrils betrayed her emotion. "Bill, you promised!"

As always, he was helpless in the face of her anger. 

"How could you let this happen?"

He shook his head, clasped his hands behind his back so she wouldn't see how hard he was wringing them together. "I was too late. They've been watching him for years, years! I thought he would be safe in London, at Oxford."

"Who was it?" asked Teena, clenching her fists.

"A man named Blaise Guillory, an Assistant Director overseas," And how he'd wanted to slap that smug smile right off of Guillory's face. Fox hadn't noticed, of course. Too caught up from the first flush of success in his scholarly endeavours. In all honesty Bill hadn't given more than a cursory thought to the project once he had heard about. Once he had given the go ahead. A method of keeping Fox busy, away from the woman he called his girlfriend. He'd seen them from afar, a chance glimpse from the car while they stood waiting to board a bus. Yet another tall brunette.

"You know what he's going to do there, don't you."

Bill nodded slowly. 

"And you - what are you going to do?" Teena's voice was low and cold and he understood without having to say it that this was not a last chance. No, this was an opportunity to prove himself the man she had known when they first met. A chance at...not redemption, exactly, they were too far along for that, but maybe some sort of accord, something better than this cold war they neither of them enjoyed. 

But...Fox was no longer a child over whom he had control. Fox was now a man over whom he had no influence. All hope was not yet lost, though.

He said, "I'm going to fix it."

 

 

~*~ end ~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by littlegreen42 : something that explores how Mulder's parents reacted to any (or all) of the following things: Mulder joining the FBI, Mulder recovering his memories of his sister's abduction, Mulder starting to work on the X-Files. 
> 
> This may also be considered an addendum to a scene near the end of [Sloane Rangers & Lager Lovelies](http://archiveofourown.org/works/533435).
> 
> Hard to believe it's been 20 years since the X Files first came on the air. Mulder and Scully were (are) still my heroes, modern day heroes fighting for all of us who can't, or won't. A lot has been written about how neatly the X Files fit into the zeitgeist of the times, but I think that the show hit us squarely in the feels. Mulder and Scully are us, essentially. Perpetually confused, not knowing which way to turn yet striding forth fearfully anyway - well, it's the human condition, isn't it? Add in the understated attraction to one another, yet holding themselves apart for ideals and loyalty that are almost never spoken of - that's world mythology, right there, all across the world. I doubt Chris Carter ever imagined his little horror show would ever reach such depths. I could reach and say that even Scully's pregnancy could be seen in that light, but honestly...I'd rather just not go there.
> 
> More importantly, though, was the affect on my writing. Mulder and Scully taught me how to write short stories, how to write from the male perspective, how to write well. This has translated into my 'real' writing, and I am forever grateful.
> 
> But mostly, I'm grateful to Mulder and Scully, dark heroes for a dark age.


End file.
